


she's got a story you can't see

by ohmcgee



Series: ohmcgee's mallverse [51]
Category: DCU (Comics), Impulse (Comics), The Flash (Comics)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Retail, F/M, May/December Relationship, mallverse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-21
Updated: 2016-11-21
Packaged: 2018-09-01 06:06:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8612167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohmcgee/pseuds/ohmcgee
Summary: Zee is the last person he expects to see when he opens the door.





	

“Max, _pleeeeease_ ,” Bart says. “ _Please_ , Max. Max. Max. Max. _Max_ \--”

“I said no,” Max says calmly, sprinkling water over the tiny herb garden he started a few months ago. For some reason the only thing that seems to be sprouting is the chives. “You’re too young to go to some concert on your own.”

“But I’m not going alone,” Bart says, one of his big feet coming right down on top of one of the chive plants. Max might’ve gotten angry about it if he wasn’t trying to figure out how to get rid of the damned things already; instead he just sighs and digs it up. “Jaime’s coming with me.”

“Yes,” Max says. “Another sixteen year old. That’s not what I meant by chaperone.”

“So come with us,” Bart shrugs. “Come _on_ , Max. Please. Please. Please. Max --”

“Bart,” Max says, getting dirt all over his face when he reaches up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “I think I hear the dog trying to eat your video games again.”

“ _OhmygodSegaNO,_ ” Bart yells and thankfully runs back into the house, leaving Max alone with his garden in peace.

For at least two whole minutes. 

 

: : :

 

“You don’t think he’s old enough?” Connor says as he mixes up a shake in the breakroom before starting his shift. “Isn’t he six--”

“Connor,” Max says, staring at him over his coffee. “You’ve met Bart.”

“Oh,” Connor grins. “Yeah, I see your point.”

“I’d love to trust him to go to a show with his friends,” Max says. “But I can’t even trust him to take the garbage out without hitchhiking to Jersey with a lonely cab driver and yes, that happened, and no, I don’t want to talk about it ever again.”

Connor almost chokes on his protein shake. “I don’t know,” he says. “Maybe you could go with him?”

Max snorts. “To a rock show. Me”

Connor smiles and shrugs. “You might enjoy it.”

“I might enjoy sticking my head in the oven more,” Max says, getting to rinse his coffee cup out in the sink. “I’ll figure something out. Thanks for listening, kid.”

“No problem, Max,” Connor says as they walk out of the break room and into the gym. “You help us out all the time. If we didn’t already have plans Kyle and I could take him.”

“Take who where?” Marina asks behind the counter as they walk by. There’s a girl standing on the other side in a yoga top and pants with a yoga bag strapped to her back who Max has never seen before, so she must not be a regular. She smiles when she catches Max looking at her and Max has the sudden feeling that he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t. 

“Just Bart,” Max says. “Don’t worry about it. Help this young lady instead of eavesdropping on people’s conversations.”

“Oh, wow. Max! You don’t know who this is?” Marina teases him. Pointing out Max’s age and lack of pop culture knowledge is pretty much her favorite past time. Actually, sometimes Max thinks Marina thinks that’s what she was hired for since she does that more often than her actual job. “Max, this is Zatanna. She plays the bass for _Black Canary._ ”

“It’s just Zee for the cool people,” Zatanna says, sticking her hand out for him to shake and winking. 

“Huh,” Max says when she turns her smile on him, finally accepting her hand when he realizes he hasn’t shaken it yet. He hasn’t had this much trouble focusing since Bart gave him that accidental concussion last month. Really, it’s not like he doesn’t she gorgeous young women come in the gym all the time. He’s being ridiculous. “Is that so? I was just telling Connor that my nephew’s dying to go to your show this weekend.”

Of course Bart’s not actually his nephew, but that’s easier explain to someone you just met rather than telling them that you found him squatting in your house when you came back from vacation once and he never, ever left. 

“That’s awesome,” Zee smiles at him. “How old is he?”

“Only sixteen,” Max says. “And not very responsible. So you can see my apprehension.”

“Yeah,” Zee says, giving him a crooked little grin. “I was pretty wild at sixteen too.”

Max does not say _and when was that, last month?_ because he is a gentleman and because he’s honestly praying that isn’t the case. 

“Hey, you know what?” Zee says, shifting the yoga bag on her shoulder. “You should bring him.”

“Oh,” Max says. “I don’t know. I doubt I would --”

“Aw, come on,” Zee says, reaching out and straightening Max’s collar for him. “We put on a pretty good show. I think you would enjoy it.”

“Well,” Max says, feeling an unmistakable heat on the back of his neck. “I suppose I should come and make sure Bart doesn’t demolish the set before you all get up there.” 

“Great,” Zee beams at him and tucks a wisp of stray black hair behind her ear. “I guess I’ll see you Friday.”

“Right,” Max says. “Friday. I guess so.”

As soon as Zee leaves for her yoga class Max turns around to see M and Connor both standing there staring at him with smirks on their faces.

“What?” Max grumbles and grabs some random papers off Marina’s desk to make it look like he’s doing something. “Don’t you two have jobs to do?”

He can hear both of them snickering as he walks off to see where the hell Marina got off to now. 

 

: : :

 

“Come _on_ ,” Bart groans and flops back on Max’s bed for the eighth time. “The show is going to be _over_ by the time you figure out what to wear.”

“The show doesn’t start for another hour,” Max says. “Blue or black?”

“Blue,” Bart says. “Why does it even matter? I didn’t even know you had so many clothes. I thought there were just sweatpants and sweatshirts in every drawer. Max. What’s a Bee-Gee?”

Max turns around and Bart has every drawer in his dresser open and half of the clothes in it pulled out. He’s holding up one of Max’s old t-shirts that he only wears to wash the car in anymore.

“Clean that up,” Max mutters as he pulls the dark blue shirt over his head. He looks at himself in the mirror as Bart haphazardly shoves things back in drawers and frowns. Unbuttons one of the buttons at the top. Pushes up his sleeves up. Sighs. “I’m not going.”

“ _Aaaaargh_ ,” Bart screams and gets behind Max, pushing him out the door like a five foot tall, one hundred and ten pound bulldozer. “Come _onnnnnnn._ ”

“I don’t know,” Max says, digging in his heels. “I think I liked the black one better. Just let me change one more --”

They’ll probably get a call from the neighbors soon about the blood curdling dying sound Bart makes when Max heads back into the bathroom, but Max can’t help but laugh. He gets very few pleasures out of life these days. Ruining Bart’s life is one of them. 

“Alright,” Max says, finally emerging from his room to find Bart on the couch looking so frumpy he looks like he doesn’t have any bones left in his body. “How do I look?”

“Like an a --”

“Tt,” Max says. “Language.”

“You look _fine_ ,” Bart says, jumping up. “Now can we go? Oh geeze, what’s that _smell?_ ”

“It’s called cologne,” Max says, grabbing his coat and his keys. “You might try it once to cover up the odor of Funyuns and teen angst.” 

“Eugh,” Bart says, snatching the keys out of Max’s hand and sprinting to the car. “I’ll drive!”

“Only if it’s over a cliff,” Max mutters and locks the house behind him. 

 

: : :

 

Max hasn’t been in a bar since -- well, at least since he took Bart in. Before that he had his usual that he’d go to once or twice a month, kick back with a beer and watch whatever game was on. Every now and then he’d strike up a conversation with someone and even rarer than that he’d bring them home with him. That _definitely_ hasn’t happened since he took Bart in. 

As soon as they get to the place Bart disappears with Jaime and Max finds a table to sit at that’s not too close, but not too far away, and at a good distance to keep an eye on any trouble Bart might get into. The music really, really isn’t his thing. Max likes jazz, The Beatles, songs where you can actually understand the lyrics. This band Zee’s in isn’t any of those things. The pretty blonde singing is Dinah, or so Bart and Jaime tell him, and she’s got a set of lungs on her, that’s for sure, but to hell if Max knows what’s she singing about. 

Zee grins at him whenever she sees him in the crowd, gives him a little wave with a lace-gloved hand, then goes back to her guitar. She looks so much different from when Max saw her the other morning, hair piled on top of her head in a bun in all her yoga gear. Tonight she’s wearing ripped fishnet tights under a leather mini skirt and there’s hardly any of the sweet, young girl Max met at the gym. Tonight she’s all rock and roll and Max can see every tattoo on her arms and chest and when Dinah prowls up next to her and wraps her arms around her Max drains the rest of his beer in one go.

When the band goes on break between Zee makes her way through the crowd to him, grinning the whole way.

“You made it!” She says over the crowd. “Where’s your nephew?”

“Around here somewhere,” Max says, leaning in close instead of shouting. “Unfortunately.”

Zee just grins at him, then wraps her fingers around his arm and leans into his ear. “Buy me a drink?”

“Oh,” Max says, surprised, and Zee gives him this breathy little laugh. 

“I mean, you don’t _have_ to,” she says and Max blushes at how stupid he’s acting, as if he’s never been around a beautiful woman before. _Get it together, Crandall_ , he thinks. 

“Don’t be silly,” he says. “I’d love to --”

“Uh, Mr. Crandall,” Jaime says, running up to him through the crowd. “I kind of lost Bart. And I’m not real sure, you know, it could’ve been _anything_ , but I think. I think maybe the fire on stage _might_ \--”

Max closes his eyes and sighs, then counts to ten in Japanese -- backwards -- as Jaime explains the rest

“Zee,” he says, turning back to her. “About that --”

“Oh my god my _bass_ ,” Zee screams when she sees the flames on stage, then takes off through the crowd to try to salvage their equipment. “ _I'M GONNA KILL HIM!”_

Max just sighs and sits back down, then pulls out his phone and starts dialing the fire department, laughing at himself for thinking the night could’ve gone any other way. 

 

: : :

 

Later that night, after Max banishes Bart to his room until _eternity_ , takes away every and anything even remotely electronic and seriously considers putting a padlock on the outside of Bart’s door, he’s standing at the kitchen sink rinsing out his coffee cup for in the morning when someone knocks on the door.

Zee is the _last_ person he expects to see when he opens the door.

“Ah,” Max says. “If you’re here to murder my nephew just try to keep it down, the neighbors complain about too much noise after nine.”

Zee just smiles and shakes her head. “Actually,” she says. “I think you promised me a drink.”

“I did,” Max says, quirking an eyebrow at her.

“ _Well_ ,” Zee says, grinning at him. “Can I come in?”

“Oh,” Max says, caught off guard once again. “Of course. I’m sure I have something lying around that Bart hasn’t gotten into yet.”

“Jesus,” Zee says. “Bart and alcohol? That sounds terrifying.”

“Oh no,” Max shakes his head as he leads her into the kitchen. “He doesn’t drink it. He barters with it. He traded one of my vintage Pinot Noir’s for something called _Monster Lizard Ninja’s From Mars_ once.”

“I use to love that game when I was a kid,” Zee grins and hops up on the counter as Max pulls two glasses down. 

“Mm,” Max says as he pours them each a glass of wine. “Such a long time ago, too.”

“Oh stop,” Zee grins and nudges his thigh with the tip of her foot. At some point she’d slipped both of her combat boots off and there’s something about having her barefoot in his kitchen that makes Max feel like a dirty old man. Perhaps it has something to do with the fact that he’s pretty sure the top she’s wearing is actually just a bra and that her skirt barely covers her ass and that he’s _old enough to be her grandfather._ Probably that. “I’m not a kid.”

“Is that so?” Max teases, taking a sip of his wine. “So you could buy this yourself in a store then?”

“Of course,” Zee grins. “For almost six months now.”

“Heavens,” Max says, smirking at her over the rim of his glass. “What’s it like being that old?”

Zee just giggles and they carry on like that for another half hour or so, teasing and ribbing each other, Max refilling their glasses when they get low until the banter fades away and leaves Max standing in the silent kitchen not knowing what to do with himself. He’s done this before, he swears. Usually with women -- sometimes men -- his own age, though. He has no idea what to do with a girl in smokey eyeliner and dark purple lips who has more tattoos than he does. 

“Hey,” Zee says, kicking her foot out again and nudging his leg with it. “C’mere.”

Max cocks an eyebrow at her when she crooks his finger at him, but Zee just grins, and Max is pretty much helpless after that, putting his glass down and walking toward her like he’s caught in her gravitational force. 

“Hey,” she says again, softer and a bit slurred, when Max stands between her legs, his knees bumping against the knobs on the bottom kitchen cabinets. 

“Hi,” Max murmurs, eyes falling shut of their own accord when he feels Zee’s fingers curl around the back of his neck, the soft scrape of her nails against his skin. “You should probably go now.”

“Oh?” Zee says, rubbing the top of her foot up and down the back of Max’s thigh. “Why?”

“Because if you don’t,” Max says, leaning in to press his cheek to hers. “I think I might fuck you right here.”

“Oh god,” Zee whispers and grabs his face. When they kiss it’s not soft and slow, it’s fast and desperate, pulling at each others clothing and fucking each other’s mouths like it’s something they’re both starved for. Zee shoves his shirt up and Max helps her get it off the rest of the way, kisses her wine-stained mouth as she works open his belt and pushes his jeans down his hips. Her top is strapless so Max just yanks it down and dips his head to mouth at her breasts and tease her nipples with his tongue and teeth. “Oh god, Max. I want you, come on --”

Max comes back up, grabs Zee’s face and kisses her hard before he pushes her skirt up to her waist, rips her fishnets with his hands, then grabs her leg and wraps it around his waist and shoves himself inside of her, burying a groan in the hollow of her throat as she squeezes around him. 

“Oh god,” she whimpers and wraps her other leg around him, throwing her head back in a moan when Max grabs her ass under the leather of her skirt and fucks into her, hard and deep. 

“Shh,” Max says, putting two fingers over her mouth, then pointing upstairs at where Bart’s room is.

Zee just nods and closes her eyes the next time Max thrusts into her, digging her nails into his arms instead. Max hates that he can’t let her make all the noise she wants, that he doesn’t get to _hear_ what he’s doing to her, but it’s enough just to feel her, hot and so, so tight around him, just to be able to dip his head and taste the salt on her skin, the blood on her tongue where she bit her mouth to keep from screaming. 

Max kisses her throat as he fucks into her, buries his fingers in her long, dark hair and murmurs sweet filth into her ear, every soft, muffled little whimper she makes going straight to his cock. He can’t believe he’s doing this, fucking some girl young enough to be his granddaughter in his kitchen of all places, but mostly he can’t believe anyone this young and gorgeous would even think of him that way. He wants this to be so good for her that she won’t even have to think about how old he is, but it’s an understatement to say it’s been awhile for him, and Zee -- she just feels too damn good to slow down or stop. 

“God,” Max pants next to her ear. “You just feel too good. I can’t --”

He buries a grunt in the crook of her shoulder when he spills, hips jerking into her, burying himself even deeper, and Zee moans and rakes her nails through his hair as he tries to catch his breath. 

Max kisses her as he pulls out, drags her bottom lip through his teeth, then drops down to his knees on the cold tile floor and spreads her legs apart. She bangs her head on the cabinet behind her when he buries his tongue in her, covering her mouth with her own hand to keep herself from screaming as he rubs at her clit with the pad of his thumb. He feels it in her thighs when she’s about to come, a quivering that only gets stronger and stronger until she screams into her hand and her thighs clamp around Max’s head and she floods his mouth with her juices. 

She has to shove her first in her mouth as he laps at her through it, licking and sucking up everything, even the taste of himself, pushing two fingers inside of her and fucking her with them until she comes for him again, shaking so hard Max has to hold her up.

He has Zee’s head cradled against his chest, running his fingers through her hair, when her phone starts vibrating on the counter behind them. 

“I told Dinah I’d be back tonight,” she says sleepily. “She worries if I don’t let her know I’m staying somewhere else.”

“Well,” Max says, scooping Zee up in his arms and carrying her upstairs to his room. “I guess you should let her know.”


End file.
